


Fangs

by Kendrene



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, F/F, Familiars, Human!Lexa, Light BDSM, Smut, Vampire!Clarke, for the later chapters if you want me to continue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2018-12-16 12:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11828982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendrene/pseuds/Kendrene
Summary: When Tondisi is overrun by Revenants, the Trikru clan has no choice but beg for the help of the Arisen. But the price Lady Griffin demands in return is something none of them have anticipated.ORThe one where Lexa becomes Clarke's human bodyguard.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am back! After my summer hiatus (which was partly due to me being tired mentally and partly due to heat that made it impossible to stay at my laptop long) I decided to dig out and "finish" a story which has sat in my half written folder for months. 
> 
> It's nothing more than a glimpse in this AU, because honestly I don't know what the heck to do with it. So I thought I would put up what I have, and you can tell me if you want it to continue, and what would you like to see.

“They make a good match,” Kane murmured lightly, dark eyes following Clarke’s hopeful suitor as he lead the blonde around the ballroom, in step with a stately court dance. “He seems quite taken with her.” 

Abby sighed. While her Familiar was quite proficient between the sheets, the most obscure complexities of women escaped him completely.

“The Collins boy would bore her to death,” she replied drily, with a soft chuckle at her own wit. She hid a small grimace behind the lacquered fan she carried in affectation more that actual need, “if she didn’t grind him into dust first. My child is quite willful and I have yet to find the Arisen who could match her.” 

By the Primogenitor, every word was true and the whole affair was proving to be quite the headache. 

She extended a pale hand, and Kane promptly offered his arm to help her off the settee where she had been lounging. She hated balls and socializing, but both were things required of a good mother. 

The dance came to a close, the sudden lull in the music instantly filled by the buzz of conversation, and she watched Clarke leave her would be fiance in the middle of the room, mouth agape. Evidently the boy - even at a hundred and fifty he was nothing more than a pup - had been in the process of asking for another dance, but Abigail could tell from the look of horrified boredom on her daughter’s face that any chances he thought he had would not survive the night. 

“It seems you were mistaken Marcus,” she shot poor Finn a meaningful look and the man chuckled. 

“He’d look less ill with a stake in his chest.” Marcus countered with dark humor. Her fingers dug into his arm painfully. Because he was a Familiar he had some leeway, but only some and the Tower’s ballroom was full of Arisen not as lenient as she. One may take offence and rip his throat out before she could intervene and her House already had a reputation for treating its mortal servants far too gently. Some whispered that the Lady Griffin was too “humane”. 

Whatever that meant.  

And besides it would take her far too long to find an acceptable substitute. Every human could make a proper servant with enough training, but few had what it took to be a Familiar. 

Abby shivered delicately. Truly, she could not abide the thought of facing countless empty nights and a cold bed.  

Her escort inclined his head, dutifully chastised, but before he could put voice to an apology Clarke joined them, taking Abby’s other arm and steering the pair towards one of  the balconies that overlooked the city.

“Save me Mother,” the girl rolled her eyes in Finn’s direction, “he is so dreadful. I’d rather go to my own funeral than be with him a minute longer.” 

“His family is powerful, child. Let him down gently if you can.” 

Clarke looked away, delicate fangs worrying at her lower lip and Abby sighed. “Too late for that, isn’t it?” 

“Kind of.” 

At least her daughter had the decency to look sufficiently contrite. 

Clarke cast her eyes to the mosaic patterning the floor at her mother’s rebuke. She knew Abby had a point and yet she had not been able to help herself. 

True enough, Finn was handsome to look at, but so empty behind the carefully constructed facade he’d chosen for himself. He had prattled on all night about everything while managing to truly talk of nothing, with the result she had quickly toned out the deluge of useless words. 

To add insult to injury he’d obviously been slavering all over one of the human serving girls that circulated the room while dancing with  _ her _ ! 

Clarke didn’t care much whether he wished to sate his thirst or other appetites by the end of the night, but he could have at least faked an interest for her that went beyond putting his grubby hands on the Griffin’s family estates.

The trio stepped out into the coolness of the night and Clarke thought - as she always did when her eyes caught sight of Polis sprawling at her feet - that her heart would falter if it actually still beat. 

“May I have my present now, Mother?” She asked at the risk of sounding petulant. 

“At midnight. When…” 

“When I turn a hundred, I know.”

Her mother nodded and gave her a soft smile, angling her fan so that the kindness on her face was something only shared between the two of them. Clarke was well aware of her family’s less than desirable reputation - one her mother tried to amend in public with all her might - and she had been taught not to display weakness since the first instant after her Rebirth.  

Marcus gestured discreetly and a pair of servants, a man and a woman, walked towards them.

The man carried a tray stacked full with empty crystal goblets that shone dimly under the light of the moon. Next to them were folded bandages and a small scalpel, handle elegantly inlaid in mother-of-pearl. 

“Shall I?” He offered, picking up the blade.

Abby nodded graciously. 

“Please dear.” 

The female servant, bared her wrist, offering it to Marcus without speaking. Clarke could see old scars crisscross the flesh above the main vein and knew it wasn’t the first time the girl had done this for her masters. The maid’s soft brown eyes shone with eager light - some people just lived for the subtle whisper of the blade parting their skin. 

The cut came clean and swift, Marcus holding the girl’s wrist expertly with his free hand so than no drop of blood went wasted. He bled her enough to fill all of the goblets, then pinched the cut shut and quickly tightened a length of linen around the girl’s wound just as she started to sway. 

“Take her back to the servants’ quarters and see she is well fed,” Abby ordered to the other serf while Marcus was taking the tray from him, “let her have as many sweets as she wants to, mind you. And she is exempted from her chores tomorrow.”

Clarke knew the care Abby had with their servants was part of the reason they were ridiculed in certain circles, but she thought that treating well those that provided their nourishment was merely pragmatism. Her mother’s studies had proven that well tended humans produced far better blood, but their kind hated to be reminded that the Arisen were nothing more than parasitic beings, for all their presumed might. 

The male servant bowed, then gently took the girl by an elbow and led her away. Marcus placed the tray on the balcony’s wide balustrade, before handing a full glass to his Mistress and one to Clarke. 

“May I join you?” A deep voice inquired and the blonde turned, finding Thelonius Jaha standing right behind her. 

“Happy Centenary my dear,” he bowed and smiled broadly, snatching one of the goblets from the tray before anyone could object. Marcus looked disgruntled.

“Thank you Uncle,” he wasn’t really, although all the families shared at least a few drops of Becca’s blood, the Primogenitor, the first Arisen to ever walk the Earth. The one that mortals called Lilith.  

“Another hundred years and you will look as radiant as your mother.” 

Abby threw her head back, laughing gaily, pleased with Thelonious’ adulation. Clarke’s eyes were trained on Kane however, and she thought one could hammer iron on the hardening planes of the man’s face. Her mother’s Familiar knew Thelonious words for what they were - an attempt to lure her mother into marriage. Abigail knew too, but liked to pit the vampire and the human against each other whenever she had the chance. Her mother thrived on their attention.

Before sparks could fly between them, the bell atop Polis’ tower rang, its slow, deep tolls heralding midnight. 

Abby drained the glass in one long draught, then looked her daughter in the eye and smiled indulgently at the eagerness flushing Clarke’s cheeks a timid rose. She hoped the gift would settle the girl down some, and perhaps teach her more responsibility. Abby remembered the first time she had held the child to her breast, and how fragile the wailing thing had seemed, still covered in the fluids of her birth. Clarke’s mortal father Jake had been too destitute to care for the the child himself, and so had begged Abby to take her in - while he enrolled in Polis’ Militia, hoping to forge a future for himself and his daughter. He had died soon after, during one of the numerous scrapes with the northern Revenants. 

Abby had intended to raise Clarke as a servant, but as the girl grew - somewhat wild at that - she had found herself aching to have a child of her own and so, once Jake’s daughter had lived eighteen mortal years, she had given the girl her blood and turned her. 

“Come child. It is time for your present.” 

It was to be a private moment, and so they left Thelonius and Kane behind to stare daggers at each other. They slipped silently through the throng of milling guests, to a darkened wing of the house, Clarke trailing her mother eagerly.

As they walked, their echoing footsteps the only sound disturbing the night now that they had left the revellers Abby cast a sidelong glance to her daughter. Clarke’s eyes shone with excitement, and her cheeks were flush with the blood she’d just consumed, but despite the obvious eagerness of her steps, the younger Arisen held herself with a grace that would make any mother proud. 

At first Abigail had thought of getting Clarke a human pet - there were plenty of willing boys and girls down at the market - but the Revenants outside their walls and the enemies of their House within had convinced her a bodyguard would be better. 

Someone that would hopefully become a companion Clarke could trust. 

Abby stopped in front of imposing double doors, friezes picked out in gilt on the blackwood. 

“Ready?” she asked teasingly, hands hovering inches from the wood, waiting to push the doors wide open.

Clarke merely nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She could still feel the servant’s blood coating her tongue and it heightened her senses, allowing her to pick out every hue of the shadows crowding around them. She took one last step, coming to stand side by side with her mother and took a deep breath. Despite the thick wood panels hiding what lay inside the room, Clarke knew someone - a human - was waiting. She could perceive their heartbeat like a whisper against her skin, a hint of thunder that had the fine hairs at the back of her neck trying to stand on edge. 

The beat was fast and savage, like the call of a thousand war drums and the fact she couldn’t tell whether the heart throbbed in fright or anger filled Clarke with disquiet. 

Before she could reconsider and stop her mother, the doors swung open on well oiled hinges and Clarke’s eyes widened as she took in the contents of the room.

“Oh Mother..” 

She licked her fangs, at a loss for any other words. It really was not the gift she had expected.

**********************************************

Lexa was angry. 

She paced the room they had confined her in like a caged beast, stalking along the marble floors as if she was still hunting in her estate’s woods. 

Except her family’s estate had been overrun by Revenants, and the walled town Trikru had ruled for generations, refusing to bend the knee to Arisen and Revenants alike was now a pile of smoldering ruins. 

And then Anya….

No, she would not even think the woman’s name. They may be still cousins by ties of blood, but the older woman, the one who had raised her and trained her in the sword was like dead to Lexa. 

_ Worse _ . 

She wasn’t angry, she decided. She was positively furious. 

Lexa wanted nothing more than whip the sword from the scabbard at her back and hack the room to pieces. Instead she kept pacing, as morosely as she could, forcing down a bitter laugh at the irony of it all. 

When Anya had taken her to Lady Griffin, Lexa had thought they would bargain with the Arisen for help. Abigail Griffin would help the Trikru clan retake the town of Tondisi and they would send regular offerings in return. 

That had been the plan she and Anya had discussed at length, deciding that if they had to give away some of their people in the process they may as well indenture them to a vampire that seemed to care about humans’ well being. It had left a bad taste in Lexa’s mouth, but her people were suffering and the Revenants were - after all - a common enemy.l

But the Lady had demanded something neither of them had anticipated - something not even Gustus had foreseen. 

And to Lexa’s dismay Anya accepted. 

Her hand flew to her sword’s hilt, and Lexa bared more than an inch of sharp steel before she could stop herself from doing something rash. Still, in the moments it took her to slow her breathing and release the white-knuckled hold she had on her weapon, she abandoned herself to a dark fantasy of violence. 

She bared her teeth in a snarl, imagining the satisfying thud of the blade sinking in the polished mahogany of the table that sat in the center of the room. She would smash her way through it until she’d cut it in half, then crush it to splinters beneath her feet. 

Next she’d hack into the pale marble of the fireplace until her sword went dull and the aftershocks had her arms ready to fall off. 

And yet for all the rage she could exact on her surroundings, Lexa knew that it would change nothing. 

By the time the doors opened she’d regained her self control. She was ready to face the monsters her cousin her traded her to. 

Or so she thought. 

But when her eyes tangled with the clear blue of cornflowers in bloom, Lexa felt her word shift. 

She tried to remind herself that the creatures gliding inside the room seemed human only by imitation, but as they drew closer all the stories she had grown up with looked more and more like lies. 

The Lady Griffin she had met, and she’d been impressed with the vampire’s shrewd maneuvering more than her looks. Oh, the Arisen was beautiful, but the creature standing next to her…

Lexa felt dumbstruck. She was tongue-tied. She’d anticipated this moment so she could finally lash out at her new owners and spit all the content she felt for their cursed species right into their face. 

Instead she found herself faced with summer made flesh, and only a fleck of drying blood at the corner of the Arisen’s mouth reminded her of the beast that lurked beneath. 

The two vampires whispered words too low for her to hear, then Lady Griffin left, the double doors closing quietly in her wake. 

They stared at each other for quite some time, Lexa itching to move but rooted to the spot, silently begging the Arisen facing her to say something, anything she could latch on to stoke the embers of her anger.

When the vampire finally spoke, Lexa wished she hadn’t for it became far too easy to forget it wasn’t a girl but a demon she was facing. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa and Clarke are face to face for the first time. Plotting to fing a way out Lexa decides to play along, and spends her first night in the vampires' lair. Morning brings a horrible discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this AU is back in my head. Hope you all won't mind. As always kudos and comments are treasured. Happy reading.
> 
> \- Dren

“Lexa.” The vampire’s voice was low and gravelly, lower than Lexa had expected. 

Her own name slid down her back like a lover’s caress, leaving her a ruin in its wake, and she brought her arms behind her back to hide fists that clenched so hard her nails left scarlet grooves on the palms of her hands. 

She loathed that the creature’s voice seemed to have so much power over her, and used the distaste she’d always felt for Revenants and Arisen alike to stoke the anger that threatened to wink out of existence within her belly. 

The vampire’s fingers played with the seal holding the parchment rolled up, before she twisted her hands, snapping the dried wax and letting it scatter to the floor. 

The crack of the seal breaking was like the end of a spell, and Lexa felt she could breathe easier for some reason. She didn’t know whether the vampire was using some sort of trick on her, or if her mind - still reeling from what had befallen her people - was finally crumbling under the strain, but whatever plans this human-looking hellspawn had for her, she would not go quietly. 

“There is no need to be so hostile.” Lexa blinked, realizing that - much to her horror - the vampire had somehow moved  _ behind _ her. 

She tried to rationalize and tell herself that the woman had used her own distraction to sneak behind her back, but a small voice within her skull questioned. What hope did she have to resist if the creature moved that fast? 

After all she’d seen vampires fight, and how easily they could tear a man apart with their bare hands. Inhuman speed did not seem much of a far fetched idea in light of that. 

A hand feathered a touch at the small of her back and, despite her best efforts, Lexa shivered. Her pulse point began to prick, brain conjuring an image of her slumped in the vampire’s arms as she was bled dry, and she began to whirl, hand ready to close around her sword. 

The damned creature may have her life, but she’d set the steepest price for it. 

Before she could bare her sword, or turn around to face her, the vampire moved away, stepping back in front of Lexa with slow deliberate steps. She kept walking until the room’s table is between them, then tossed the length of parchment on the polished wood. 

She gave Lexa the kind of look that said she was waiting for her to read it, and when she didn’t move, the vampire gestured minutely, annoyance flickering across her features, before her face returned to a guarded, distant-looking appearance. 

She must be young, Lexa thought, to let her emotions show like that. The few Arisen she had seen in her life had appeared as aloof beings, seemingly so far removed from the frailties of mortality that it was hard to even imagine they had been as mortal and hot blooded as she, before being turned. 

Of course Revenants were an entirely different story. 

Perhaps she could use the vampire’s age as an advantage to find her way out of this situation. 

“What is this?” She asked, instead of reading the document herself. It was maybe a petty sort of victory to force the vampire to tell her, but Lexa took comfort in her little disobedience. 

And there was a part of her that she tried to silence with all her might, which simply  _ ached  _ to hear the creature speak again. 

The vampire sighed, and Lexa knew it was a theatrical affectation, for she needed not to breathe at all. 

“The contract that indentures you to my service.” She talked slowly now, part of the raspiness gone, and looked for all the world like she was lecturing a willful child. 

“I signed no such thing.” Lexa felt it was her right to state she’d had no agency in this. She had been traded like cattle, and even though she knew that Anya’s decision had been born of desperation, she couldn’t bring herself to think of her cousin without her heart almost rupturing with the bitterness of what she felt was a betrayal. 

“I am aware.” The vampire smiled then, a sliver of amusement that barely stretched her lips in order - Lexa realized with a sickening drop of her stomach - to conceal her fangs. “But it is sufficient that your relative did, as you are her second and must obey her in all things.” 

It was true - and damn the creature for throwing the smarting truth into her face so casually - but while custom and honor tied her to that rule, Lexa was no less chagrined at the upheaval her life had undergone in the space of a few days. 

She let her hands fall to her sides, gritting her teeth to mask her discomfort when fingers she’d held in a fist for so long painfully uncurled. She raised her chin, and met the vampire’s gaze with a cold one of her own.

“I’d rather I was dead.” Rather than being trapped in a place where the inhabitants were a walking contradiction of the natural. Dead on a battlefield, mouth full of blood and grit would have been preferable. 

A strange expression clouded the vampire’s face for an instant. It was not rage, but something maudlin that reminded Lexa of how pitiful a grave looked when people ceased to visit it.

She involuntarily pressed her forearms to her chest, anchoring herself in the feeling of her own warm flesh, while trying to not let her unease transpire.

“I would not speak of death so lightly in this household.” The creature said in the end, with the voice of one that spoke from experience, “now come with me.”

Without leaving Lexa any room for a reply she turned around and walked to the door, the languid glide with which she’d made her entrance now abandoned for a pace far brisker and businesslike. 

She expected to be obeyed, and Lexa toyed with the idea to stay exactly where she was, but she had seen too little of the vampires’ lair to find her way out of it with ease. So she would play along for a while, and when they thought her tamed into her servitude she’d free herself and lift her people up to retake the Trikru lands. 

When she followed the vampire into the hallway, snatches of laughter and music drifted to her ears. Typical of creatures so unconcerned with mortality to feast when the world around them was on the brink of burning. 

Lexa was aware that the Arisen had had their own trouble with the Revenants, but Polis and the lands immediately in the vicinity had remained unscathed so far. One thing was to be said about these vampires, they were very good at protecting their food. 

On the other hand, the Trikru hand not bent the knee to any of the old vampire families, and so it was acceptable to leave them to the wolves. 

For a moment Lexa thought that the vampire would lead her towards the party, to be paraded around like a choice morsel of food, but the creature led her away from the noise, and deeper inside the lair. 

Mayhaps lair wasn’t the right word, Lexa admitted, as corridors lined with works of art and tastefully finished in marble streamed by. She caught a glimpse of the city through a window, a dazzling view of burning torches and houses far below that left her dizzy. 

She hadn’t known exactly where inside the Lady Griffin’s tower they had brought her, as she had been too blinded by her rage to pay attention to details after Anya had bartered her life away. 

It would take her a few days to learn the layout of the place - provided they left her free to roam the hallways as she pleased - and find the safest route towards escape. 

If - of course - her new mistress didn’t decide to drain her first.

The corridors remained empty around them, servants and other vampires obviously attending the feast. Lexa took the quiet time as an opportunity to study both what she considered her captor and her surroundings, starting to get a general feel for the second if not the first. 

Aside from the one flash of annoyance, the vampire remained closed off and mysterious, like  a book in a language Lexa did not recognize. There was something unsettling about knowing that someone who looked about her age was in fact old enough to make Lexa’s bones ache. 

Lexa had always seen the vampires as enemies, but staring at this creature in her eerie familiarity made things not so clear cut. 

“In here.” They came to a lacquered door, which the vampire pushed open. Beyond was a bedroom, simply furnished but as big as some of the houses entire families shared in Tondisi. Lexa may have been born to rule her clan, but even the place she’d called home hadn’t been so lavish. 

“This is where you’ll sleep.” The vampire half turned, gauging her reaction. “Well? Go on,” she prompted once it became clear Lexa was just going to hover in the doorway, “unless you need an invitation?” 

The jibe was quite obvious, and Lexa could not help the sneer that curled her lips. The vampire noticed it, and something akin to interest lit up inside her cold eyes, melting their ice blue into a warmer color. 

She stepped inside the room, not bothering to hide a glare this time, and the vampire stared right back clearly amused. 

“Rest well.” With a movement so blistering-fast that Lexa didn’t register it until the vampire was standing in the hallway, she was left alone, the door closing between them with a click that echoed with all the finality of a coffin being nailed shut. 

When she could move again, Lexa went for the door to test the lock. To her surprise the handle turned and she opened the door a fraction, peering into the hallway with suspicion. 

Of the vampire there was no trace. 

It could be her chance to leave, or maybe it was a trap. Either way Lexa realized with dismay as her anger simmered to a lower heat, she would doom her people. If she rebelled too openly, the Lady Griffin may very well call off the deal with Anya. And if she left, breaking the contract in the process, the vampire certainly would. 

She sighed and tiredly walked over to the bed, letting herself fall on it face down as she let out a small groan. She was well and truly fucked, but then she twisted on the mattress and her sword’s hilt dug between her shoulderblades. 

They had not taken her sword away. She was still a warrior and nobody could take that truth from her. 

It took her a good while to fall asleep, and when she did she didn’t rest easy, twitching away at every small noise. She slept with the sword scabbarded sword tightly held to her body, and clung to it in the same way a castaway would clutch a lifeline. 

Despite everything she was still Lexa kom Trikru, and nobody could change  _ that _ .

******************************************

Morning came treacherously fast and Lexa woke with a start, fumbling for the sword which had rolled down onto the mattress while she slept. 

She didn’t feel at all rested, her whole body aching as if she was going through a fever. Picking herself off the bed was a challenge that left her on shaky legs, the tension she had endured during the last few days finally exacting its toll. 

She had been raised to endure so, even though the bed looked more and more inviting with each passing minute, she spent some time exploring her immediate surroundings. 

As she had noted the previous night, the room was sparingly furnished, but everything seemed durable and well made. It was a stark contrast from the opulence of the hallways she had walked along, and her mind was left troubled by the detail for some reason.

Spotting a pitcher and washbasin she poured herself some water and washed her face, scrubbing the last shreds of sleep off the corners of her eyes. The water was icy cold, and it helped her regain her full alertness. 

After fully waking up she continued her exploration. There was another door half hidden behind a curtain that she had overlooked the night before, but Lexa decided to leave it for last. Beside the bed, the room contained a small table and matching chairs, plus a trunk that Lexa found empty when she opened it. 

It had probably been placed there to be filled up with personal belongings, except everything had been lost during the fall of her town. All she had left were the crumpled clothes she’d fought and fled in and her sword. 

One wall was occupied by a spotless fireplace, a small pile of split wood piled to the side. Another breathtaking view of the city down below greeted Lexa at the window, and she spared it a cursory glance, before turning her attention to the second door. 

She walked to it slowly, the way it was almost tucked at the far side of the room making her weary. 

She was suddenly reminded of one time Anya had taken her to market as a child. Their farmers had been plagued by wolves all winter, and one of them had managed to trap a young male and brought it to the town market for the townspeople’s amusement. The beast had been fascinating to look at, the fact that it was trapped behind bars not diminishing its threat. 

When she placed her hand on the door’s handle, Lexa’s heart quickened the same way it had so many seasons ago when her eyes had met the wolf’s savage ones. She almost found herself praying to find it locked, but the door swung open on well oiled hinges with barely a whisper.

Another bedroom lay beyond, just as simple as the one she’d slept in, if slightly bigger. There were differences of course - the bed looked somewhat more imposing and was curtained, the table was carved of a darker wood - but it was as functional overall as the first. 

Something Lexa could not quite explain drew her to the bed, and as she stepped quietly beside it, she had the absolute certainty that she would find it occupied, despite the fact no sound of breathing disturbed the morning’s stillness. 

She reached out - her body moving with a mind of its own - and pulled the curtain back. 

The vampire from the night before lay onto the bed, fully dressed with her hands folded at her breast. Lexa made to step back as silently as she had come, the absurd thought that the creature was asleep flitting through her mind, but then she saw that those impossibly blue eyes were open. 

Staring. 

_ Dead _ .

There was an instant in which Lexa imagined the vampire was staring at her, but there was something too slack about her face for a focused look, as if she wasn’t really inside her body. She appeared like a long dead corpse would without decomposition. 

The horror of it all struck Lexa deeper than a sword thrust ever could and she tore her eyes away, staggering backwards as bile burned up her throat. 

The vampire’s words of caution about death made sense now, for who could know a mortal’s end more intimately that somebody who died each time the sun rose? 

Lexa caught herself with effort, forcing her legs to work and carry her towards the door. She needed to leave this cursed place, she wanted to, and yet she also thought that walking back to end the creature would be a mercy. 

Her eyes sought the room beyond as if it was a sanctuary, then widened. 

The Lady Griffin was blocking her only way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [follow me on TUMBLR for more stories and exclusive content](https://kendrene.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Should I continue? If you have any ideas for the story please sound off below or on tumblr @kendrene, because I honestly have no clue about the plot here.


End file.
